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CHAPTER ONE
"SHEER off!"
"What?"
"I'm talking to Mauly!" said Billy Bunter, with dignity. "We don't want to be interrupted,
do we, Mauly?"
"Yaas."
"Oh, really, you beast--"
Whereat the Famous Five of the Greyfriars Remove chuckled.
It was a warm day on the Nile. All the days on the Nile were warm. Sunshine, the clear, dry
sunshine of Egypt, streamed down on the slow-rolling river, on the city of Luxor, and on
the dahabiyeh tied up to the bank.
Harry Wharton & Co. had been ashore with Hassan, the dragoman, seeing the sights.
Warm as the Nile valley was, the Famous Five did not seem to tire-in which they were
very unlike Billy Bunter and Lord Mauleverer. Billy Bunter was fat and lazy. Lord
Mauleverer was slim and lazy. Mauly liked to see the sights of Egypt from a long cane chair
on the upper deck of the big Nile houseboat, with his legs resting on another chair, and his
hands clasped behind his head.
Billy Bunter did not care a lot for sights, anyhow, and he declared that he was fed-up on
temples and tombs and mummies. Sitting under an awning, eating sticky Turkish
sweetmeats had more appeal for Bunter. So the two slackers had been left on board the
dahabiyeh while the energetic five "did" Denderah with Hassan.
Warm and dusty, but merry and bright, the chums of the Remove clattered back to Luxor
on their donkeys, and came tramping cheerily across the gangway to the tied-up
dahabiyeh.
Lord Mauleverer gave them a sleepy grin and a tired nod as they tramped on the upper
deck.
Billy Bunter gave them an inimical glare through his big spectacles; and as the glare
produced absolutely no effect on the five, he requested them to sheer off. Bunter, it
seemed, did not want their company just then.
But what Bunter wanted, or did not want, was a trifle light as air to the cheery chums of
the Remove. Black Nubian servants pulled out deck-chairs for them, and they sat down,
with smiling faces.
"I say, you fellows, I think you might sheer off!" said Bunter. "It's rather bad form to
interrupt a private conversation!"
"Fathead!" said Bob Cherry politely.
"I'm talking to Mauly!" roared Bunter.
"Poor old Mauly!" said Frank Nugent, with deep sympathy.
"The poorfuIness of the esteemed old Mauly is terrific!" remarked Hurree Jamset Ram
Singh.
"The interruptfulness is a boonful blessing, isn't it, my estimable idiotic Mauly?"
"Yaas!" yawned Lord Mauleverer.
"What's the jolly old secret?" asked Johnny Bull, with a glare at Bunter. "Are you expecting
a postal order in Egypt, and asking Mauly to cash it for you in advance, you fat fraud?"
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"I don't think you fellows ought to be inquisitive," said Bunter. "If there's one thing I can't
stand, it's inquisitiveness!"
"Oh, my only summer hat!"
"Butting in when a fellow's having a private talk with a pal!" said Billy Bunter indignantly.
"Rotten bad form, you know! I say, Mauly, old man, come down to the balcony!"
"Can't!"
"Why not?" demanded Bunter.
"Tired!"
"You silly ass, you've been sitting in that chair for two hours! What's made you tired?"
"You!"
"Ha, ha, ha!"
Billy Bunter fixed his big spectacles on his noble pal with an expression that did not seem
at all pally. But he controlled his wrath. He had an important matter to discuss with Lord
Mauleverer--a very important matter indeed. It was not a time for telling the schoolboy
earl what he thought of him.
"We've had no end of a time, Mauly!" said Harry Wharton. "You ought to have come! The
Temple of Hathor at Denderah is a corker!"
"I'll take your word for it, old man!" said Mauly.
"And the Temple of Isis!" said Bob Cherry.
"I say, you fellows, shut up!" said Bunter. "If you haven't the good taste to sheer off while
I'm talking to my pal, you might shut up, at least!"
"Don't you want to hear about the jolly old sights at Denderah, Mauly?" asked Nugent.
"Not at all-I mean, yaas!" amended Lord Mauleverer hastily. "Anythin' to keep Bunter from
talkin'!"
"The celebrated Temple of Hathor is--" began Bob.
"Shut up!" roared Bunter. "Now, Mauly, I was saying--"
"Oh dear! Yaas!" murmured Lord Mauleverer. "Go it, old fat bean! Mind if I go to sleep?"
"Oh, really, Mauly, as I was saying, I'm not the fellow to brag or to make a song about what
I've done--you know that! But did I, or did I not, get you away from those Arab beasts,
Hamza and Yussef, when they bagged you the day we went to Karnak? Did I, or did I not,
risk my life with a pluck that none of those fellows would have been capable of to rescue
you?"
"No!"
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"Why, you ungrateful beast!" roared Bunter.
"You jolly well know I did!"
"I know you were on the spot by accident, and in such a shivering funk that you jolly
nearly left me to it!" said Mauly. "Is that what you mean?"
"No, it isn't!" roared Bunter. "And look at the night that Greek rotter, Kalizelos, got on the
dahabiyeh after that silly scarab! Did I, or did I not, watch over your safety and save you?"
"No!" yawned Lord Mauleverer.
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"Of all the ungrateful rotters--" gasped Bunter.
"You got out in the night rooting after grub and butted into the Greek johnny, and were
scared out of your wits!" yawned Mauleverer.
"Is that what you mean, old top?"
"No wonder Shakespeare talks about the thankless tooth of a serpent's child!" said Bunter
bitterly. "I'm accustomed to ingratitude! Look what I've done for these fellows! And are
they grateful? No fear! But there's a limit, Mauly! You owe me your life! I'm not bragging of
it; pluck happens to be my long suit! Kindest friend and noblest foe, and all that--that's me
all over. Now, look here, Mauly, for some reason remittances haven't reached me since
we've been on this holiday in Egypt--"
"I knew he was expecting a postal order!" murmured Bob Cherry.
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"Shut up!" roared Bunter. "I'm not going to sponge on you, Mauly. I'm not like some
fellows I could name, I hope! But a loan till my remittance comes is quite a different
matter. You've lent me a few piastres already--"
"A few thousand!" grinned Bob.
"Do shut up, Cherry! Now, look here, Mauly--"
Lord Mauleverer sat up.
"I see the point," he said thoughtfully. "The fact is, you men keep on telling me that
nothing's safe in my pockets. You've made me hide that jolly old scarab of A-Menah, so
that I shan't lose it. Those Arabs the other day at Karnak got a lot of money off me. On the
whole, I think the best thing I can do is to hand over all the money I've got to Bunter."
"You silly ass!" bawled Johnny Bull.
"Good egg!" exclaimed Billy Bunter eagerly.
"I'll take care of it for you, Mauly! Rely on me!"
Lord Mauleverer fumbled in his pocket. Billy Bunter watched him with his eyes almost
bulging through his spectacles. Harry Wharton & Co. simply stared.
Lord Mauleverer was in the happy position of having more of that useful article, cash, than
a fellow could possibly want. There was no doubt that he was careless with it. Backsheesh
flowed from Mauleverer's pockets like a stream - or, rather, like a torrent. Hassan, the
dragoman, was making a fortune out of him. Innumerable natives, all along the Nile, had
lapped up the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table. Billy Bunter had used him like a
bank in which he had an unlimited account. But this seemed to be rather the limit, even
for Mauly.
Placing his cash in the care of Billy Bunter was really an amazing proposition. There was
little doubt that it would have been for Mauly's benefit to have a friend taking care of his
cash for him. But dropping it into the Nile would have been about as useful as placing it in
the fat hands of the Owl of the Remove.
Mauleverer seemed in serious earnest, however. He drew his Russia-leather purse from
his pocket.
"Mauly, you ass!" exclaimed Wharton, almost aghast.
"You shut up, Wharton!" roared Bunter wrathfully. "Mauly knows a pal he can trust.
Mauly isn't asking you to take care of his money for him, are you, Mauly?"
"No."
"He's asking me," said Bunter loftily. "He knows he can rely on a pal like me. You fellows
can shut up."
"Well, fools and their money are soon parted!" remarked Johnny Bull.
"Thanks!" yawned Mauleverer.
"My esteemed idiotic Mauly--" murmured the Nabob of Bhanipur.
"Don't you men think it a good idea?" asked Mauleverer innocently. "You've told me often
enough that I'm jolly careless. I own up-I'm careless. Well, this money will be safe with
Bunter. I can leave it to his judgment to spend it how he thinks fit--"
"Oh crikey!"
"I leave it absolutely in his hands," said Mauleverer. "You don't mind, Bunter?"
"My dear chap-my dear old pal!" gasped Bunter. "That's all right! I'm your man! Hand it
over!"
"It's a lot of responsibility off my hands, you see," Mauleverer explained to the staring five.
"Bunter's willin' to take it on. That settles it. I'm goin' to hand over all my money to
Bunter-every piastre I've got about me. Bunter can do as he likes with it. I leave it to him
entirely."
"Dear old Mauly!" said Billy Bunter, his fat voice fairly thrilling with affection. "Rely on
me!"
"Here you are, old chap!"
Lord Mauleverer opened his nobby purse. From the interior he extracted a nickel coin,
which was called a "kirsch" in the native tongue, but more generally a piastre. Its value
was two-pence-halfpenny! This he placed in the eager outstretched palm of William
George Bunter.
"There!" he said, and he replaced the purse in his pocket and sank back lazily in his chair.
Bunter blinked at the coin. He seemed hardly able to believe his little round eyes, or his
big round spectacles.
"What-what-what's this?" gasped Bunter blankly.
"It's a piastre, old top."
"I know it's a piastre, you idiot! But what-what is it for?"
"It's all my money."
"Wha-a-at?"
"By the way," added Lord Mauleverer thoughtfully, as if he had just remembered
something. "I shall have to drop into the bank before we leave Luxor and get some cash.
I've entirely run out."
Bunter blinked at him. He blinked at the nickel coin in his fat palm. He blinked at
Mauleverer again. He seemed bereft of speech. There was a sudden roar from the Famous
Five.
"Ha, ha, ha!"
Bunter found his voice.
"Mauly! You silly idiot-you frabjous ass-you burbling chump--"
"Eh?" Lord Mauleverer looked surprised.
"Are you calling me those fancy names because I'm trusting you with all my money,
Bunter?"
"Ha, ha, ha!" yelled the Famous Five. They realised now that his lazy lordship had been
gently pulling the fat Owl's podgy leg.
"Mean to say this is all the money you've got?" shrieked Bunter.
"Yaas!" .
"Why, you-you-you idiot--"
"I feel that I can trust you with it, Bunter, old bean. Spend it how you like-use your own
judgment--"
"Ha, ha, ha!" shrieked the juniors.
The expression on Billy Bunter's fat face might have made the statue of Rameses the
Second smile.
"You-you-you--" gurgled Bunter. "You-you funny idiot! You slacking ass! You idiotic
dummy!"
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"Anythin' the matter, old bean?" asked Lord Mauleverer, raising his eyebrows. "That isn't
really the way to talk to a fellow who's trusting you with all his money."
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"Beast!" roared Bunter
"My dear chap--"
"Yah!"
Billy Bunter hurled all Mauly's money-that single, solitary piastre-into the Nile. Then, with
a sort of scorn, he rolled away, followed by a sleepy grin from Lord Mauleverer and a howl
of laughter from the Famous Five.
After which Harry Wharton & Co. told Mauly all about the wonderful things they had seen
that day at Denderah. Mauly did not mind. He went to sleep, and slumbered gently and
peacefully while they told him.
CHAPTER TWO
"CAMPING out?"
"That's it!"
"Rot!" said Bunter.
The song of the Nubian sailors, as they handled their long poles, sounded musically in the
sunny morning. The great houseboat swung away from the Nile bank and floated out into
the river. The Greyfriars tourists had "done" the eastern bank-Luxor, and Karnak, and the
other wonderful things-and now the dahabiyeh was being poled across the Nile to the
western bank, where many more marvels awaited them.
Hassan, the dragoman, was bursting with information respecting the Necropolis, the "City
of the Dead," the Tombs of the Kings, the Tombs of the Queens-tombs, and tombs, and
tombs! -that covered a vast space on the west bank of the Nile opposite Luxor. There were,
as the dragoman told them gleefully, innumerable dead persons-more innumerable than
in any part of Egypt hitherto explored by the Greyfriars party. Which, to Hassan's mind, at
least, was an irresistible attraction.
The juniors had breakfasted on the balcony, under the awning, at the stern of the
dahabiyeh.
Billy Bunter was still breakfasting on the balcony when they went to the upper deck. The
broad waters of the Nile glistened in the sunshine, and other dahabiyehs were to be seen,
as well as a crowd of feluccas-some rowing with their great, heavy oars, others gliding
under the big lateen sails. The Cleopatra was the largest and handsomest dahabiyeh to be
seen. Mr. Hilmi Maroudi, of Cairo, who had lent it to the Greyfriars party, was a
millionaire, and his dahabiyeh was a palatial boat. The juniors watched the busy scene on
the Nile with keen interest. Other tourists were going across to the western bank that
morning, but most of them in the ferryboat or in hired feluccas.
Billy Bunter rolled up to the upper deck, after packing away several breakfasts, one after
another, and he brought with him a big orange in either fat hand to wind up his meal. He
found the Famous Five discussing what they were going to do on the western bank. And as
soon as he learned that the idea was to leave the dahabiyeh tied up and camp out for a
night or two ashore, Bunter stated his opinion-for what it was worth.
The chums of the Remove did not seem to consider that it was worth very much. They
continued to discuss their camping arrangements, regardless.
"You'd like to go camping, Mauly-what?" asked Harry Wharton.
"Yaas."
"Look here, Mauly," said Billy Bunter.
"What's the good of roughing it in a silly tent when you can come back and sleep
comfortably on the dahabiyeh? You'd rather come back to the dahabiyeh, wouldn't you?"
"Yaas."
"You can't do both, fathead!" remarked Johnny Bull.
"Oh dear!" said Mauly.
Lord Mauleverer's system was to agree with every suggestion made-which was a little
awkward when opinions differed.
Billy Bunter guzzled an orange, hurled the peel into the Nile, and swatted flies that had a
fancy for the orange juice smeared on his fat face.
"Well, you can take this from me," he said. "I'm not going camping! If you camp out in a lot
of putrid ruins you won't have my company!"
"I say, camping seems rather a jolly idea," remarked Lord Mauleverer thoughtfully. "Let's
camp out, by all means!"
"Oh, really, Mauly!"
"Hassan can fix us up with all the things we need," said Bob.
The dragoman salaamed.
"On my head be it, sar!" he said. "Hassan is your dragoman. You trust Hassan. Everything
shall be at the top of a hole, as you say in your noble English language."
"Everything shall be-what?" ejaculated Mauleverer.
"The esteemed Hassan means that the topholefulness will be terrific," explained Hurree
Jamset Ram Singh.
"Oh gad!" said Mauly, and the juniors chuckled.
A nasal voice, in emphatic tones, hailed the juniors on the dahabiyeh from a felucca on the
Nile. In that felucca sat two tourists-one a tall, lean gentleman, with lantern jaws, the other
a short, stout gentleman. Each of them wore a sun-helmet and smoked glasses, and carried
a red-covered guidebook, and spat continually into the Nile. From which latter
circumstance the juniors guessed that they were tourists from the great United States. It
was the lean man who hailed the dahabiyeh.
"Say! You!" he called out. "You figure that you want to run down this doggoned felucca?
I'll say you'd better tell your sailors to keep them pesky poles away."
The tall, bronze-complexioned reis, standing at the high helm of the dahabiyeh, glanced
down at the felucca, but gave no sign. The singing Nubians poled on, unregarding. Billy
Bunter sniffed. On board the most magnificent dahabiyeh on the Nile, Billy Bunter felt
immensely superior to commonplace tourists in a hired boat.
He sniffed to make that superiority clear to the commonplace persons. Harry Wharton &
Co. looked down at the felucca. The small craft was cutting across the bows of the big craft,
so they concluded that it was the felucca's own look-out if there was trouble, and left it at
that. But Lord Mauleverer, with great politeness, raised his hat to the American gentlemen
and answered in his most courteous tones.
"Sorry, sir! We'd much rather not run you down, as a matter of choice. But perhaps you
wouldn't mind keepin' out of the way."
The lean gentleman gave him a glare.
"You bought the Nile?" he inquired.
"I think not," answered Lord Mauleverer thoughtfully. "I've been buyin' things ever since
I've been in Egypt-the people here won't take no for an answer, you know! I can't
remember everythin' I've bought! But I don't think the Nile was among my purchases."
The Famous Five grinned as his lordship made that reply with perfect gravity. The lean
American stared at him.
"Say, bo, was you born funny?" he asked. "I'll say you don't want to shoot off your mouth
too promiscus when you're talking to George Washington Jacks! George W. Jacks might
step aboard that hooker and spank you, some!"
"My esteemed and ridiculous friend," said Hurree Jamset Ram Singh, "the spankfulness
might be a boot on the other leg."
Mr. Jacks gave quite a jump. Hurree Jamset Ram Singh's English, learned from the wisest
moonshee in Bhanipur, often had a surprising effect on strangers.
"Carry me home to die!" said Mr. Jacks. "Did you hear that, colonel?"
"Did I, colonel?" answered the fat man. "I'll say I did." .
Both the American gentlemen, apparently, were colonels, though they did not look like
military gentlemen.
"Jevver hear anything like it, Colonel Skink?" asked G. W. Jacks.
"I'll say no, Colonel Jacks," answered Colonel Skink.
The dahabiyeh rolled heavily on. The little felucca, which was rowed by a couple of brown
men, danced on the wash of the great houseboat.
Some of the Nile washed aboard and wetted the feet of the two colonels, and angry
remarks were made through the noses of Messrs. Jacks and Skink.
"Cheek!" said Billy Bunter.
He pushed his face into his second orange.
Bunter liked oranges, and he enjoyed them-but it could not be said that his method of
dealing with them was either cleanly or elegant.
Having gobbled the interior of that fat and juicy fruit, Bunter carelessly tossed the remains
over the side of the dahabiyeh.
"Look out!" ejaculated Bob Cherry.
"Eh?"
"You fat ass!"
It was too late for Bunter to look out. The remnant of the orange had landed. Every bullet
is said to have its billet, and the same rule seemed to apply to that juicy relic of Bunter's
latest snack. It landed in the keen, sharp, penetrating eye of Colonel Jacks.
G. W. Jacks was standing up at the moment.
The next moment he was sitting down. He sat down with a sudden concussion that made
the light felucca rock. The roar that burst from G. W. Jacks might have been heard on both
banks of the Nile.
"Oh gad!" ejaculated Lord Mauleverer. "You clumsy ass, Bunter--"
"Eh?" said Bunter. The short-sighted Owl of the Remove had not even seen where his
missile had landed. "What's the row? I say, you fellows, what is that Yankee yelling
about?"
Colonel Jacks was yelling wildly to his rowers. They stared at him dubiously, but obeyed.
The felucca ran alongside the dahabiyeh, and the long-limbed American was aboard the
Cleopatra almost in the twinkling of an eye. He was angry and excited-there was no doubt
about his anger and excitement. There was, orange-juice in his eye, which was
uncomfortable and painful. And obviously he was convinced that the missile had been
thrown intentionally-which was enough to annoy even a very good-tempered man, And
the long gentleman from the U.S. did not seem at all good-tempered, anyhow.
"Hallo, hallo, hallo!" ejaculated Bob Cherry.
"What--"
"Yaroooooh!" roared Bunter.
Two bony hands were grasping Billy Bunter before that fat youth knew what was
happening.
He was sprawled, face down, across a bony knee.
Spank!
"Whooooop."
Spank, spank!
"Yow! Wow!"
"Oh, my hat!" gasped Harry Wharton.
Spank!
"Yooop! Help! Rescue!" roared Bunter. "I say, you fellows--Whooooop!"
Spank, spank!
"I guess you can't get by with sauce to G. W. Jacks!" roared the lean colonel. "No, sir! I'll say
nope, sir! I'll surely say nope! Not G. W. Jacks, sir! George W. Jacks doesn't stand for it, sir!
Sure! Not in your lifetime, and some over! Nope!"
Spank, spank, spank!
Billy Bunter wriggled and raved. Harry Wharton & Co. gathered round and grasped G.
W. Jacks on all sides. Bunter deserved to be spanked, perhaps, for landing the relic of a
juicy orange in a stranger's eye from sheer carelessness. But the lean gentleman was
overdoing it wholesale. The Famous Five grasped various parts of Colonel Jacks' bony
person and yanked him away from the Owl of the Remove.
"Chuck it!" gasped Bob Cherry. "Keep your jolly old temper, old bean!"
"Yaroooh! Pitch him into the Nile!" yelled Bunter. "Whop him! Oh crikey! Rag him! Pull
his nose! Yaroooh!"
"I'll say you'd better leggo!" roared G. W. Jacks, struggling in the grasp of the juniors.
"Yep! I'll say so!"
But the juniors did not let go. The excited transatlantic gentleman seemed rather too
dangerous to be released. They led him to the side, and Wharton shouted to the dancing
felucca.
"Catch!"
"Search me!" ejaculated the other colonel in the felucca, staring up in astonishment. "By
the great horned toad, you can search me!"
The rowers held the felucca close alongside, and the Famous Five dropped the bony
gentleman back where he belonged. The thin colonel went sprawling down, and the fat
colonel, in an unfortunate moment for himself, stepped forward to catch him and help him
land. His foot slipped in the rocking boat, and he missed G. W. Jacks. But G. W. Jacks did
not miss him-G. W. Jacks landed on the back of his neck.
There was an agonised gurgle from the plump colonel as he was squashed in the bottom
of the boat under the bony colonel.
"Ooooh! Great gophers! Yoooogh!"
"Thunder!" gasped Colonel Jacks.
"Ha, ha, ha!" came in a yell from the dahabiyeh.
The two colonels were wildly mixed up in the bottom of the felucca. The light craft rocked
wildly, shipping water, which drenched over the two struggling and sprawling colonels.
There was a cackle of laughter from the Nubian crew of the Cleopatra; even the grave reis
condescended to grin.
The dahabiyeh rolled on, leaving the felucca behind. Two crimson and breathless citizens
of the United States sorted themselves out at last, and sat and gasped for wind. The
dahabiyeh rolled on, and they faded out of the picture, still gasping.
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
STRANDED!
"OH crikey!"
That was Billy Bunter's first remark when he was released.
"Is he gone?"
"The son of a thousand pigs has escaped!" said the reis. "My lord's anger will be great.
Upon your head be it!"
Bunter snorted.
"How could I help it, you silly idiot, when he grabbed me through the window? Don't be a
silly ass!"
The reis gave Bunter a long, grave look and retired without saying anything more. He had
bad news for Lord Mauleverer when he returned, but the fault was not his. There was
nothing more to be done, and the reis therefore dismissed the matter from his mind and
returned to his narghile.
Billy Bunter rolled, snorting, to the deck.
Bunter-so far as he could see, at least-was not to blame in the matter. The prisoner had
escaped-which was unfortunate, but not Bunter's fault. He reflected bitterly that the other
fellows when they heard what had happened, would make out that he was to blame-as
usual!
Still, Bunter was used to injustice.
Certainly, he wished that he hadn't gone near the prisoner, as it had turned out. But it was
too late to think of that, so Bunter did not think about it. What couldn't be helped, couldn't
be helped. And that was that! If those inconsiderate beasts hadn't gone off for days,
leaving Bunter on his own, it wouldn't have happened. Besides, Bunter had other matters
to think about.
The really pressing matter to be considered was whether Billy Bunter was going to spend
his time on the tied-up dahabiyeh, with no company but his own, or join the fellows in
their camp on Mr. Maroudi's plantation. Bunter considered that pressing question as he
blinked at the sunset over the Libyan desert.
It was easy enough to join the Greyfriars party, if he liked. The camp was only two or three
miles from the Nile, and Bunter knew where it was. Mr. Maroudi's place was called Beni-
Hasa, and any donkey-boy on the bank would be sure to know it. He had only to mount
a donkey and say "Beni-Hasa," and the donkey and the donkey-boy would do the rest.
It was cooler now, and Bunter was utterly fed-up with the dahabiyeh and his own
fascinating company. Also, he reflected, that if he butted in at the camp it might have an
annoying effect on the other fellows-which was all to the good! It would show the beasts
that he jolly well wasn't going to be left out of things.
Supper-an important matter-was pretty certain to be good. He knew what Mr. Maroudi's
hospitality was like, and though the Egyptian gentleman was not there himself, he had
sent orders to his people, and Bunter knew that Hassan had sent a messenger that
morning to Beni-Hasa. Upon the whole, Bunter's fat comfort was not likely to suffer in
camp-and, anyhow, if he didn't like it, he could ride back. All these important
considerations having been duly considered, Billy Bunter made up his fat mind.
Having made it up, he rolled across the gangway to the bank.
"Donkey, sir!"
"Fine donkey, sir!"
"This magnificent donkey, sir--"
A dozen donkey-boys surrounded the fat junior at once. Billy Bunter carefully selected
what seemed to him the quietest-looking donkey, and, with the help of the donkey-boy,
scrambled into the red leather saddle.
"Where you go, sar? Ramesseum-Tombs of Kings-Tombs of Queens--"
"Beni-Hasa!" said Bunter. "You know Maroudi's plantation."
"Know Maroudi, sah! Know Beni-Hasa! Yes, sar!"
"Get on, then!"
The stick cracked on the donkey and they started. Billy Bunter cast a rather uneasy blink
around him, remembering Hamza and Yussef.
But it was an hour since he, had seen the two Arab ruffians; they had long been gone. And
there were plenty of people about. Bunter trotted away cheerfully, with the donkey-boy
running behind, cracking his stick on the donkey.
The "City of the Dead" of the ancient Egyptian Thebes drew hardly a glance from Billy
Bunter. He passed the "Tombs' of the Kings" without even knowing that they were there.
He gave attention to his surroundings when the donkey clattered up a rocky hill-path and
he had to hold on with both hands to avoid slipping off.
Clatter, clatter, clatter!
"Oh lor'!" gasped Bunter.
He rocked and swayed in the saddle.
The hills were low, but the path was not easy, even for a good rider. And Billy Bunter was
the worst rider that ever was. And the small Egyptian donkey was feeling severely the
terrific weight of the Owl of Greyfriars. Bunter had a strong suspicion that the donkey
would throw him off if he could. He had, so to speak, been there before!
According to Billy Bunter, he was accustomed to backing magnificent hunters at Bunter
Court.
But he had had rotten luck in backing Egyptian donkeys. He held on for his fat life as he
came out on the rocky slopes on the farther side of the hills. A patch of green showed
against the brown of the desert in the sunset-lit west, and the donkey-boy pointed with
his stick.
"Beni-Hasa, sar!"
The plantation was about a mile farther on, and a rough donkey-track led towards it down
the 'hill. Clatter, clatter!
"Yarooooh!"
The donkey's hoofs slipped, and Bunter nearly took a header. He yelled to the donkey-boy.
"Here, you! Hold him! I'll get off!"
"Yes, sar!"
The donkey-boy held the animal, and Bunter dismounted. He decided to walk till the level
was reached. Going down the hill was more risky than getting up, on donkey-back, and
even Bun-ter could walk a half-mile downhill. He grunted and plodded on, and the black
boy followed with the donkey.
Puffing and panting, the fat Owl reached the level at last, at the foot of the hill. The green
plantation was only half a mile away now, gleaming against the brown desert in the last
rays of the sun. The sudden twilight was at hand, but there was plenty of time to finish the
ride before dark. But Bunter's donkey had his own ideas about that.
"Here, you! I'll get on now!" panted Bunter.
"Yes, sar!"
The donkey backed away.
"Bring that beast here, you dummy!" snapped Bunter irritably. "What's the matter with
the silly brute?"
The donkey backed off farther. The donkey-boy shouted at the animal and brandished his
stick, but that unfortunate donkey had had enough of his weighty rider. Perhaps he had
supposed, when Bunter dismounted, that the fat junior was done with him. Anyhow, he
was extremely unwilling to allow Bunter to mount again,
The donkey-boy grabbed at him, but the donkey jumped away and eluded the grab. With a
clatter of hoofs, he dashed back the way he had come. Yelling, the donkey-boy dashed in
pursuit.
"Oh crikey!" gasped Bunter.
He sat down on a rock to rest, while the donkey-boy caught the donkey. But the donkey-
boy did not catch the donkey. Angry yells and a brandished stick behind his whisking tail,
perhaps, did not encourage the animal to be caught.
He clattered on, with his owner panting after him, and both of them disappeared from
sight in a fold of the hills. Hoofbeats and yells died away in the distance.
Bunter sat and blinked in the direction in which they had disappeared. He was waiting for
them to reappear.
Sunset deepened into dark. It was the brief twilight of the south, and night was at hand. It
dawned on Bunter that the donkey-boy had not succeeded in catching the donkey, and
that they were not going to reappear. That donkey was going all out for the Nile, and the
donkey-boy was going all out behind him. And darkness dropped on the land of Egypt like
a cloak, and the hills vanished from Bunter's sight.
"Oh crikey!" gasped Bunter.
For the second time that day Billy Bunter was left on his own. But his last state was worse
than his first! This time he was left on his own on a barren hillside, three miles at least
from the dahabiyeh, and without the remotest possibility of finding his way back to it-
even if his fat legs had been equal to the tramp across rough hills.
Billy Bunter sat and blinked in utter dismay.
There was no going back! That was certain!
He had to go on-on foot! And if he missed the track--
"Beasts!" groaned Bunter.
Mr. Maroudi's plantation was a cultivated patch on the edge of the desert. If Bunter missed
the track, he was likely to go wandering into the Libyan Desert. He groaned.
The bright stars of Egypt were coming out in the sky. Eastward of Bunter, towards the
Nile, the hills lay a black mass. There was no sign or sound of the donkey-boy, or of any
other living being. Westward, in the gleaming of the stars, he was comforted to make out a
dark mass which could only be the orange plantation. And he found, too, that the donkey-
track that led to Beni-Hasa was very clearly marked-so clearly marked that even Bunter
could hardly miss it in the bright starlight.
There was no danger, after all, of wandering into the remote recesses of the Libyan Desert.
He had only to follow the donkey-track till he reached the Greyfriars camp, and if he
missed the camp he would arrive at the plantation and its buildings. That was a comfort-
but he had to walk half a mile at least, and he groaned as he started, after a long, long rest!
He tramped on with bitter feelings in his podgy breast. This was the sort of thing a fellow
had to stand, after all he had done for a set of ungrateful rotters! Likely as not, they had
turned in already-fat lot they cared about Bunter! With deep wrath and indignation, and
at the pace of a very old and very tired snail, Billy Bunter plodded along the rough donkey-
track, stopping every now and then for a rest on a boulder.
The track wound among acacias and clumps of tamarisk bushes. Suddenly in the opening
of some acacias, Billy Bunter spotted the starlight glimmering on a tent. He halted, gasping
for breath, and ejaculated: "Beasts!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
THE ENEMY!
CHAPTER TEN
CAPTURED!
KALIZELOS drew aside the tent-flap, and stared into the dark interior of the tent.
Behind him crept the two savage-faced Arabs, with long bedouin knives in their dusky
hands. In the Greek's olive hand was an automatic. From the tent came a sound of steady
breathing, and the Greek grinned with triumph. Before him lay the Greyfriars party,
buried in slumber, without a suspicion of danger.
As the starlight streamed in at the opening, he could make out the sleepers, dimly and
faintly-six of them, though he could not recognise them individually in the gloom. Harry
Wharton & Co. were at his mercy-if they attempted to resist, the six unarmed schoolboys
had no chance against three armed ruffians. Kalizelos' look was gloating. The dragoman,
bound to a tree at a distance, could not help; there was no help for the Greyfriars juniors.
Bob Cherry stirred, and raised his head from the pillow. A draught of the night wind,
through the opening, had disturbed him. He opened his eyes, and blinked at the starlight-
and at the dark figure that blotted it.
"What--" ejaculated Bob.
For a second he supposed that it was Hassan, looking into the tent. But the next moment
he knew that it was not Hassan.
He bounded to his feet.
"Hallo, hallo, hallo! Wake up, you men!" shouted Bob.
"Eh-what?"
"What the thump--"
"What's the row?" came Lord Mauleverer's sleepy drawl. "Let a fellow sleep, old bean! It
isn't mornin' yet."
"Kalizelos!" gasped Harry Wharton, his startled eyes turning on the olive face in the
starlight. "My Hat! The Greek!"
"Kalizelos-here!" stuttered Nugent.
"Oh gad!" gasped Lord Mauleverer.
The juniors scrambled to their feet, wide enough awake now. They stared in amazement
and dismay at the Greek, in the opening of the tent; and the two dark figures behind him,
knife in hand.
"Yes-it is Kalizelos!" said the Greek. "Stand quiet-and do not think of resistance--I will
riddle you with bullets if you lift a hand."
The bluish barrel of the automatic glimmered as he raised it.
"Oh, my hat!" breathed Johnny Bull.
Harry Wharton clenched his hand.
"You scoundrel! So you have escaped from the dahabiyeh!" he said between his teeth.
"As you see!" grinned the Greek. "I warn you not to resist. I am not here to shed blood, but
if you give trouble I will shoot you down like a jackal in the desert."
The juniors stared at him. The apparition of the Greek took them utterly by surprise. Not
for a moment had they dreamed that the desperado could escape from the locked cabin on
the dahabiyeh. They had not counted on the fat fatuousness of Billy Bunter.
"Your lives are in my hands," said the Greek quietly. "Take care!"
"Hassan!" shouted Bob Cherry.
Kalizelos laughed.
"Hassan is already taken care of," he said.
"Your dragoman is a prisoner, my young friend. Hassan was taken first of all. Step out
from the tent."
"You scoundrel!" breathed Wharton.
The juniors exchanged glances, but they did not stir.
Kalizelos muttered in Arabic, and Yussef and Hamza entered the tent. They drove the
schoolboys out at the point of the knife.
It was impossible to resist. The Greek was not keen to shed blood, whether from
reluctance to commit so terrible a crime, or from a lurking fear of the vengeance of Hilmi
Maroudi or of the law. Probably from a mingling of motives.
But he was in deadly earnest, and prepared for bloodshed if it was necessary to gain his
ends.
Had the juniors flung themselves at him, as they longed to do, the automatic would have
spat death on the instant. They could read as much in the glittering black eyes. With deep
rage in their hearts the Famous Five filed out of the tent, driven by the bare knives in the
hands of the Arabs. Lord Mauleverer followed them, yawning. His lazy lordship did not
seem at all excited. He only rubbed his sleepy eyes as he came out, and yawned
portentously.
Between the tent and the donkey track the six juniors were lined up. A grunt in Arabic
from Kalizelos and their hands were bound behind their backs by Hamza.
Then Kalizelos slipped the automatic back into his pocket, and at a sign from him the
Arabs' knives disappeared.
He fixed his eyes on Lord Mauleverer. "My turn now, my lord," he said, with a grim smile.
"Yaas," assented Mauleverer. "Every dog has his day, you know. But I wish you'd left your
call till the mornin'. I'm frightfully sleepy!"
"The scarab, my lord!" said the Greek.
"Dear man," said Lord Mauleverer negligently, "do you know, I fancied you were goin' to
mention that. Sort of obsession of yours, isn't it? Well, you can search me, as the
gentleman from the United States would say."
Harry Wharton & Co. stood glumly silent. It had seemed only judicious to bring the Golden
Scarab with them rather than to leave it on the dahabiyeh during an absence of days. But if
the scarab was, as the Greek believed, worth a fortune of a quarter of a million pounds,
that fortune was in the hands of the Cairo plotter now.
He had only to search.
Kalizelos looked at Mauleverer, long and hard. Then, with a muttered word to the Arabs to
guard the prisoners, he went into the tent.
The juniors waited with grim faces. Only Lord Mauleverer did not seem to lose his cheery
equanimity. To Wharton's astonishment, he even caught a wink from his lordship.
Kalizelos was a long time in the tent. It was evident that he was making a thorough search
of the juniors' belongings.
But he emerged at last, with dark disappointment in his face. He strode straight towards
Lord Mauleverer. Obviously he had not found the Golden Scarab in the tent, and he
suspected that Mauleverer might have placed it in the pocket of his pyjamas-as the juniors
also supposed must be the case.
The Greek did not speak, but he searched the schoolboy earl thoroughly. To the surprise
of the Famous Five, the scarab did not come to light.
They would have supposed that Mauly had forgotten, after all, to put it in his pocket when
he left the dahabiyeh. That would have been rather like Mauly. But they had seen him put
it in his pocket. Yet the Greek's meticulous search had failed to reveal it, and they could
only wonder whether Mauleverer had dropped it somewhere during the day's ride. In the
circumstances they hoped that he had.
"Where is the scarab, my lord?" asked Kalizelos at last in a low, bitter voice.
"Find out, old bean," answered Lord Mauleverer coolly.
The Greek's hand slid into his pocket, where he had placed the automatic. Lord
Mauleverer laughed.
"No, my lord," said Kalizelos, his voice trembling with rage. "No, I shall not blow your
foolish brains out."
"I rather fancied not," agreed Lord Mauleverer cheerfully. "You'd have to ladle out a
fearful lot of backsheesh to save your neck if you did-what?"
"That is not my reason, my lord. The scarab will ransom your life and your liberty. It is
hidden on the dahabiyeh. Be it so! There, I cannot reach it. But it will be given to me for
your ransom, my lord, unless the old man Brooke chooses to leave you to die a jackal's
death in the desert!"
He rapped out an order in Arabic, and Hamza hurried away through the acacias. Kalizelos
turned to the juniors again, with a bitter look.
"I have sent for donkeys," he said. "I have had time to lay my plans since I left your
dahabiyeh. In ten minutes Hamza will return with donkeys, and you will ride with me into
the desert. "
He waved his hand to the dusky west.
"Maroudi's plantation, where you have camped, is the last cultivated land in this
direction," he said. "Beyond lies the Libyan Desert. In an hour we shall be far from all
known tracks. The sands of the desert will hide you from all knowledge. We are not near
Cairo now. We are far up the Nile. Here, we are on the border of the wilderness. Do you
dream that the police, even the soldiers, will track you in the recesses of the desert?"
"Oh, my hat!" murmured Bob Cherry.
The juniors gazed at the bitter, savage face of the Greek. There was no doubt that he
meant every word he uttered.
And there was no doubt that he could carry out his intention. Hardly a mile away the Nile
rolled, with dahabiyehs and feluccas on its tide.
Across the Nile was the city of Luxor. Yet where they stood was on the very edge of the
great African desert-wastes of trackless sand, where no man wandered save the roaming
bedouin, drifting from oasis to oasis.
The land of Egypt consists only of the cultivated banks of the Nile, and all along the great
valley a traveller may stand with one foot in cultivated land, the other in the desert.
Civilisation jostles primitive barbarism at every step. It seemed like some nightmare to
the juniors. But it was no dream; it was terribly real. It was in the power of the Greek to
carry them off into the untrodden heart of the desert, and that was his intention.
In silence they waited for Hamza to return with the donkeys. Lord Mauleverer broke the
silence.
"Look here, you men, I'm not seein' you landed in this! Say the word and--"
The Greek's eyes glittered.
"Give up the scarab and I am done with you," he said. "I will leave you here, unharmed.
You are nothing to me. It is the scarab and the Eye of Osiris that I seek. Give up the
scarab--"
"Never!" said Harry Wharton curtly.
"But--" said Mauleverer slowly. He was not thinking of himself.
"Chuck it, Mauly! You're not giving in to that scoundrel!" grunted Johnny Bull.
"You all say the same?"
"Yes, ass!" said Bob.
"The samefulness is terrific!"
"Good men!" said Lord Mauleverer. And he said no more, and, in silence again, the
Greyfriars juniors waited for the return of Hamza.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BOLD BUNTER!
"READY, Bunter?"
"No!" hooted Billy Bunter.
"Come on, fathead!"
"Shan't!"
Billy Bunter did not "come on." William George Bunter was comfortable and lazy, and did
not want to move. Donkeys and donkey-boys had arrived at the camp in the morning, and
the Greyfriars party had ridden to the Tombs of the Queens, and other "sights" of the
Theban Necropolis .
Whether their enemies were lingering in the vicinity they could not tell, but they knew
that the Greek, at least, had been wounded, and it was likely that he was hors de combat
for the time, at least. And in the day-time, with plenty of tourists, guides, and donkey-boys
about, there was no danger to be looked for.
They returned to the camp of Beni-Hasa for lunch and rest, and in the afternoon prepared
to start to the dahabiyeh on the Nile. Now that Kalizelos was free again, and once more on
the track of the Golden Scarab, the juniors agreed that the camping-out had better be
given up.
Hassan was urgent that they should return to the safety of the dahabiyeh. And it was in
the care of the dragoman that Sir Reginald Brooke had trusted them up the Nile "on their
own." In the camp, on the edge of the desert, Hassan pointed out that the enemy might
swoop down on them in the night, perhaps in strong force.
A scrap with some gang of armed and savage bedouins, in the pay of the Greek, could only
have ended one way, as the juniors admitted, so it was decided to go back to the
houseboat.
Marvellous to relate, Billy Bunter was prepared to brave the dangers which the other
fellows thought it only prudent to obviate.
Bunter was tired. He was fat. He was lazy. He had eaten enough lunch for three or four. He
had napped only a couple of hours since lunch.
And the danger was not near at hand. So Bunter was not prepared to shift. No doubt, when
it grew dark, funk would have supervened. But in broad daylight, with no enemy in sight,
Bunter was as bold as a lion.
"It's sickening," said Bunter, glaring at the Famous Five through his big spectacles as he
sat up on a rug under a shady tree. The beasts had disturbed him in a prolonged nap, so
Bunter was naturally bitter. "I was against this idea of camping out-you know that. Now
we're here, let's stick it out! What are you afraid of? I'm with you!"
"Get up, idiot!" said Bob Cherry.
"Shan't! Hassan can fetch Maroudi's men to keep guard to-night. And there's those
Yankees, too," said Bunter. "And I've no doubt that Greek beast has cleared off-likely as
not pegged out by this time, in fact. Anyhow, I'm here to protect you, same as I did last
night. Keep a stiff upper-lip, and don't be frightened."
The Famous Five looked at him. Lord Mauleverer grinned. Billy Bunter sat and blinked
with scorn.
"It's the limit," he said. "Never saw such a set of funks! Frightened at a shadow! I'm jolly
well not going to be frightened away-I can tell you!"
"You piffling porpoise!" said Bob Cherry, with a deep breath. "You were scared out of your
silly wits last night."
"Yah!"
"And if Kalizelos showed up to-night with some gang of Arabs from the desert, you'd have
a fit."
"Yah!" repeated Bunter.
"Besides, we've invited those Americans to come on the dahabiyeh."
"Blow 'em!"
"They're going to ride back with us."
"Rot!"
Probably Billy Bunter would have been jerked off his rug, and bumped on the hard,
unsympathetic surface of Egypt at that stage, but for the fact that the two Americans came
up the donkey-track just then. Bunter had his back to the donkey-track, and did not see
them coming.
His spectacles were fastened on the Greyfriars fellows with ineffable scorn._
"I say, you fellows, pluck up a little courage!" he admonished. "Be men, you know-like me!"
"My lordly gentlemen, the donkeys are ready!" said Hassan.
"You can shut up!" said Bunter. "We're not going! If you're frightened, you can clear off-
see? If you fellows are frightened, run away as soon as you like! Leave me to face danger
alone! I'm the man for it!"
"Ye gods!" murmured Bob Cherry.
"I must say I'm ashamed of you fellows," said Bunter. "Dash it all, have a little pluck! If
there's any danger to-night, wake me up! I'll see you through! And now I'm going to sleep.
You can't expect me to sit up in this heat, listening to you babbling about your funk. For
goodness' sake, take example by me, and have a little pluck! Do I care for danger?"
Colonel Jacks and Colonel Skink had arrived under the tree. They stood looking down at
Billy Bunter's portly back, listening to him, and grinning. After their experience of him the
previous night, they seemed to find the fat Owl's valorous words entertaining.
"Why," went on Bunter, still blinking with devastating scorn at the exasperated juniors-
"why, if those beasts showed up again this minute, do you think I should care twopence?
Not me! I'd jolly well like them to, in fact! I'd show you fellows how to buck up!"
Colonel Jacks closed one eye at the juniors over Billy Bunter's unconscious head. Then,
stooping behind Bunter, he suddenly grasped him by the back of the neck. His large, bony
hand closed like a vice on that fat neck, and there was a startled yell from Bunter.
"Ooooop!"
"Dog of a Faringhee, die, by the beard of the Prophet!" roared Colonel Jacks, in Bunter's
startled ear.
"Ow! Oooh! Help!" yelled Bunter, wriggling frantically. "I say, you fellows, help! Keep him
off! He's got me! Yarooooh!"
Billy Bunter had not the slightest doubt that he was in the grasp of a savage Arab. G. W.
Jacks, evidently, had a playful sense of humour.
"Bismillah!" he roared. "Inshallah!"
"Yaroop! Keep him off!" shrieked Bunter.
"Help! Help! I say, you fellows, rescue! Help!"
"Ha, ha, ha!" yelled the juniors.
The sudden evaporation of Billy Bunter's courage was too much for them. They shrieked.
"Help!" roared Bunter. "Leggo! Help! Yaroooh!"
With that iron grip on the back of his neck Bunter could not turn his head, and see who
was behind him. His terrified mind pictured a ferocious Arab, and he palpitated with
horror. It might have occurred, even to Bunter, that if a ferocious Arab had seized him
from behind, Harry Wharton & Co. would hardly have stood roaring with laughter. But
William George Bunter was too scared to think of that, or anything else, save the iron grip
on the back of his fat neck.
"Help! Rescue!" shrieked Bunter. "Oh crikey! Mercy! Spare my life! It wasn't me! Yaroooh!
Mercy!"
"Ha, ha, ha" shrieked the juniors.
"Buck up, Bunter!" chortled Lord Mauleverer. "You're not afraid of a jolly old Arab, you
know!"
"Set us an example, old fat bean!" chuckled Bob Cherry.
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"Help! Whoop! Yooop! Mercy!" roared Bunter.
"Say, I guess that fat guy will have a fit!" drawled Colonel Skink. "He sure is some boob!"
G. W. Jacks, with a chuckle, released Bunter's fat neck. The fat Owl made a bound to his
feet, and, without a backward glance, jumped away.
He dodged behind the juniors, yelling. "Keep him off! Oh crikey! Hassan, help! Harry, old
chap! Bob, old fellow, help! Keep him off!"
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"You silly owl!" roared Bob Cherry. "It's not an Arab! Shut up, you ass!"
"Oh!" gasped Bunter.
From behind the Famous Five he ventured to blink at his assailant. His eyes almost
popped through his spectacles as he saw the two grinning colonels. It dawned on Billy
Bunter's fat brain that his leg had been pulled.
"You-you-you beast!" he gasped. "W-w-w-was it you collared me?"
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"I'll say it was," chortled Colonel Jacks.
"Haw, haw, haw!"
"Oh!" gasped Bunter. "I-I-I knew it was you, of course. I-I knew it was you all the time. I-I-I
bet I made you think I was frightened! He, he, he!"
"I'll bet you did!" agreed Colonel Jacks.
"I'll say so," chuckled Colonel Skink.
"Well, are you ready to start now, Bunter?" asked Harry Wharton, laughing.
"No; I'm jolly well not!" Billy Bunter had recovered now. "And if you fellows are funky--"
"Bump him!" said Bob Cherry.
"I say, you fellows, leggo! Oh crikey!" howled Bunter, as the Famous Five grasped him, and
he smote the sandy soil with a mighty smite.
"Yaroooh! I say, you fellows, I'm ready! I'm waiting! Whoop!"
Bump!
"Yow-ow-ow!"
"Now get on your donkey, and shut up!" said Bob. "If you say another word, you fat, funky
frump, I'll jolly well kick you!"
"Beast!" roared Bunter.
Thud!
"Ow!"
"Have another" asked Bob. "Another word, and--"
Billy Bunter did not say another word. He clambered on his donkey, and the Greyfriars
party started for the Nile.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MOUSSA, the reis, greeted the Greyfriars juniors with grave salaams as they came on
board the dahabiyeh.
From Moussa they learned how Kalizelos had made his escape; details which Billy Bunter
had not thought it worthwhile to mention. It was probably only the presence of the
visitors on board that saved the fatuous Owl from being kicked from one end of the
Cleopatra to the other. But in the presence of the two transatlantic gentlemen, Bunter
could not be dealt with as he deserved.
Bunter, unaware of his narrow escape, was by no means pleased by the presence of those
two citizens of the United States. G. W. Jacks' little jest at his expense had roused his
wrath, and he bestowed a good many inimical blinks on the long-legged colonel; which G.
W. Jacks did not even notice. Indeed, he did not seem to observe Bunter at all; which
added to the irritation of the most important member of the party.
Messrs Jacks and Skink were very pleased to pay that visit, for two good reasons-they had
discovered that Mauleverer was a "real live lord," which was naturally very gratifying to
true republicans; and they were going to get a lift on the Cleopatra up the Nile as far as
Armant, their next stopping place, which saved the cost of hiring a boat. And the juniors,
grateful for the help the two Yankee gentlemen had rendered in the hour of need, were
only too glad to make as much of them as possible.
Bunter did not share that feeling in the least.
G. W. Jacks had chased Bunter up a donkey-track with the full intention of "lambasting"
him. He had played a trick on Bunter, frightening him out of his fat wits. And he
disregarded the fat Owl as if the fat Owl was a person of absolutely no account at all. Billy
Bunter would have liked to punch G. W. Jacks' nose-though he did not think of doing so. He
had not forgotten the spanking G. W. Jacks had given him, and he did not want any more.
But as the dahabiyeh was cast off from the bank of the Nile, and while Lord Mauleverer
was politely showing the visitors over Mr. Maroudi's magnificent houseboat, Bunter
stated his views to the other fellows.
"I say, you fellows, I don't want those Yankees here," he said. "I can't make out what
you've brought them on board for."
"Forgotten already what they did for us last night?" asked Nugent.
"Oh, rot!" said Bunter. "Nothing to make a song about! Besides, I did it all, really-I fetched
the beasts and saved you from danger-I'd like to know what would have happened
without me--"
"Without you, you fat idiot, Kalizelos would still be locked up in his cabin," growled
Johnny Bull. "Shut up!"
"Well, I'm fed-up with those Yankees," said Bunter firmly, "and I can tell you, I don't want
them here-especially that cheeky rotter Jacks. I've a jolly good mind to tell them so."
"Get ready to be dropped in the Nile if you do!" said Harry Wharton.
"The dropfulness will be terrific, my esteemed idiotic Bunter," assured Hurree Jamset Ram
Singh.
Bunter's fat lip curled.
"So you're putting those Yankees before me, after all I've done for you," he said. "Talk
about a serpent's child being more ungrateful than a thankless tooth--"
"Ha, ha, ha!"
"Well, let 'em look out, that's all," said Bunter darkly. "That cheeky beast smacked me-and
played a rotten trick on me, and I've a jolly good mind to punch his nose--"
"You'd want a ladder to get to it, old fat man," grinned Bob. "And he might spank you
again. And we won't stop him next time."
"I'm not going to have a row with the fellow," said Bunter loftily. "But I can jolly well tell
you--"
"Hallo, hallo, hallo!" exclaimed Bob, pointing to the bank, from which the dahabiyeh was
gliding away. "Look!"
"Kalizelos!" exclaimed Wharton.
Under the palm-trees on the high bank of the Nile, stood the Greek, his right arm in a sling,
his olive face pale. He had suddenly appeared through the palms, and was watching the
dahabiyeh as it glided up the Nile. As he caught the eyes of the juniors turned on him, he
shook his clenched fist at them, his pale face distorted with rage. Bob Cherry politely
raised his hat in response, with a cheery grin. The Greek's brow grew blacker, and his jetty
eyes burned.
"We're not done with that merchant yet," remarked Johnny Bull. "All Bunter's fault! Let's
kick him."
"Beast!"
The Greek stood under the palms watching the dahabiyeh with bitter rage in his face. The
palms, and the figure of the Greek, faded into the distance. He was still standing there, his
burning eyes fixed on the group of schoolboys when the dahabiyeh glided round one of
the many curves of the Nile, and he was lost to sight.
"I'l1 say this is some boat!" Colonel Jacks' nasal voice resounded. "Yep, I'll surely say this is
some boat, and I guess it cost a heap of dollars."
"You've said it!" agreed Colonel Skink.
"Gentlemanly lords," said Hassan, "coffee is prepare on a balcony."
"Tea's ready," said Harry. "This way!"
They descended to the stern balcony, where Colonel Jacks stretched his long limbs in a
long cane chair; and another chair creaked and groaned under the weight of Colonel
Skink. The two American gentlemen were in high good-humour, and so were the Famous
Five, and Lord Mauleverer beamed. Only Billy Bunter's fat face wore a frown. But nobody
seemed to observe that William George Bunter was dissatisfied. So far as the two colonels
were concerned, Bunter might have not been there at all; which was naturally annoying to
a fellow who knew his own importance, if nobody else did.
"I'll say this is good coffee," said Colonel Jacks, having drained his seventh cup. "Yep! I'll
certainly say so!"
A Nubian servant took the bony colonel's cup to refill it. Billy Bunter dropped into a chair
beside Colonel Jacks. There was a gleam in Billy Bunter's eyes, behind his big spectacles.
Also Billy Bunter had something in his fat hand.
Hurree Jamset Ram Singh, who was on Bunter's other side, gave a slight sniff, and glanced
at the fat Owl's closed hand. He scented pepper.
"My esteemed Bunter--" murmured the nabob.
Bunter blinked at him.
"It's all right, Inky! I haven't got anything in my hand," he whispered. "If you think I went
down to get a packet of pepper from the cook, you're jolly well mistaken. What should I
ant pepper for?"
"My only esteemed hat," murmured the nabob.
"Nothing of the sort," said Bunter airily.
"You needn't blink at me in that suspicious way, Inky! Mind your own bizney, see!"
Hurree Singh grinned.
He looked away from Bunter; but the corner of his eye was on the fat junior. Bunter's
manner was so excessively sly, that it would have aroused the least suspicious person's
suspicions had anyone observed him. Only the nabob, as it happened, was observing him;
but the Nabob of Bhanipur was observing him very keenly indeed - out of the corner of his
eye.
Colonel Jacks' cup was set before him again.
It was undoubtedly good coffee, made by Hassan's own hands; but it was Billy Bunter's
idea that the bony colonel was not going to enjoy that cup, at all events.
"I say, you fellows!" exclaimed Bunter suddenly. "What's that on the bank? Is it an
elephant?"
He pointed with his empty hand towards a fringe of date-trees on the bank of the Nile,
near which some fellahin were working a shaduf. The tea-party looked round in the
indicated direction, certainly not expecting to see an elephant wandering along the Nile.
All eyes being off him-except the corner of one very keen eye-Billy Bunter reached out his
other hand over the colonel's coffee-cup. The contents of the paper packet in his fat paw
shot into the colonel's coffee.
Really, it was very slyly done; Billy Bunter was displaying uncommon wiliness. Hurree
Jamset Ram Singh winked into space.
"Blessed if I can see any elephant!" said Bob Cherry. "There's a shaduf-is that what you
took for an elephant, you owl?"
"The seefulness of an esteemed elephant is not terrific," remarked Hurree Jamset Ram
Singh.
"I guess you're ,dreaming, son," said Colonel Jacks. "I surely don't spot any pesky
elephant."
The tall colonel stood up, to stare at the slowly gliding bank. Billy Bunter grinned, and
took a sip of his own cup of coffee. The pepper was in Colonel Jacks' coffee now, and when
he had finished looking for a non-existent elephant on the bank of the Nile, there was a
surprise in store for him.
Hurree Jamset Ram Singh touched the fat Owl gently on the arm.
"My esteemed Bunter," he murmured, "did you drop that hundred-piastre piece on the
deck?"
"Eh? Yes!" said Bunter, promptly. "I had one in my pocket-in fact, I heard it drop! Where is
it, old chap? It's mine!"
Bunter bent down, blinking eagerly for the Egyptian pound on the deck. Hurree Jamset
Ram Singh reached out and changed Bunter's coffee-cup for that belonging to Colonel
Jacks.
Both the colonels had stood up to stare at the bank, and did not observe his action. But
Wharton and Bob Cherry observed it.
"What the thump--" began Bob.
Hurree Jamset Ram Singh closed one eye, and Bob, puzzled, broke off. He realised that the
nabob had had some reason for changing the coffee-cups, though he could not begin to
guess what it was.
"I say, Inky, where's that quid?" exclaimed Bunter, still blinking anxiously at the deck. "I
say, where did you see it?"
"The seefulness was not preposterous, my esteemed Bunter!"
"You silly ass!" roared Bunter. "Mean to say you were pulling my leg?"
"The pullfulness of your fat leg is terrific."
"Yah!"
Colonel Jacks sat down again, and lifted his coffee-cup. Billy Bunter watched him, with
fascinated eyes, behind his big spectacles. The bony colonel gulped down the coffee, and
Bunter watched for the explosion. But it did not come!
"I'll say that's pesky good coffee!" said G. W. Jacks.
"Oh crikey!" gasped Bunter.
Unless the bony colonel had an inside lined with zinc, Bunter simply could not understand
it. He knew that he had dosed the colonel's coffee with hot red pepper, and he had
expected something like an earthquake when G. W. Jacks swallowed it. Instead of which,
the colonel smacked his lips over the coffee and pronounced that it was good!
Bunter was unaware, so far, that the peppered coffee-cup was now standing in the place of
his own! That was a discovery he had yet to make!
"My absurd Bunter," murmured the nabob, "your excellent and idiotic coffee will be
getting cold--"
Bunter snorted. His trick had failed-how, he could not imagine. Colonel Jacks evidently
was none the worse for it. The fat Owl picked up his own cup, and gulped down the coffee.
The next moment there was a fearful roar.
"Yurrrrrrrgggh!"
"My esteemed Bunter--"
"Urrrrrrrggghh! "
Billy Bunter bounded to his feet. He spluttered and sputtered, gasped and gurgled,
coughed and sneezed! Water streamed from his eyes, and he clasped both fat hands to his
burning mouth. It was quite a large dose of pepper that Bunter had so slyly slipped into
the coffee. It was hot pepper-frightfully hot pepper! He had meant it to give the coffee-
drinker a shock - and it did!
"Yaroogh! I'm burned!" yelled Bunter. "Oh crikey! Ooooogh! Pip-pip-pip-pepper--
Yarooooooch!"
"Pepper in the coffee!" exclaimed Bob Cherry.
Then he understood and roared: "Ha, ha, ha!"
"Say, bo', what's biting you?" exclaimed Colonel Jacks. "I'll say this is some rookus
you're kicking up. Yep!"
"Sure!" said Colonel Skink.
"Oooooogh! Woooogh! Ooooch! Atchooh-shoo-oooh! Ow! Gug-gug-gig!" gurgled Bunter
wildly.
"What the dickens--" exclaimed Nugent.
"Urrrrrrrrggggh! "
Billy Bunter staggered away, spluttering, gasping, coughing, sneezing, and clasping his
scorching mouth. How he had come to swallow the peppered coffee himself, Bunter did
not know. But he knew that he had; Only too well he knew that! He staggered away,
emitting sounds of woe and anguish, leaving some of the tea-party staring, and some of
them grinning. And he stayed away-and was not even missed!